Beyond Crimson Peak
by TapTapAlways
Summary: One detail changes - Carter Cushing consulting his lawyer (Ferguson) before trying to pay off the Sharpe siblings, said lawyer has a very imaginative wife - and the story takes a completely different turn. This is the sequel to "Leaving Crimson Peak", and starts when Edith and Thomas have been married for almost a year.
1. Chapter 1

_"Crimson Peak" isn't mine, and this is merely a fanfiction, written only for the amusement of me and others. This is the sequel to "Leaving Crimson Peak", which is available on my profile._

 _TapTap_

Lucille Sharpe was furious. Ten months. _Ten_ whole _months_ , of her _life_ , locked in this _box_ , taken away _again_ , and her brother, her dear, lovable, _vulnerable_ little brother Thomas, he was stuck all this time, needing her, in the clutches of that terrible _Edith_. Even mentally, she spit out the name.

She had to save him from her. She could not imagine anything worse than the thought of him inprisoned there, _needing_ her; but she not coming to his rescue. Not being able to save him, just like she couldn't with mother that time she hit them both so hard...

Nothing but... the growing suspicion that it wasn't the truth. The only thing worse would be if Thomas did not want her to come to his rescue, if he was _happy_ with that horrible upstart woman. No, that couldn't be. No, Thomas waited for her. Counted on her to save him, like she always had and always would do. He needed her. Needed her to protect him - he always had.

That was they way it was, always had been. Her eyes hardened. She would come save him. She _would_. She would never betray her little brother, never leave him alone. He was better off with her, that was it. Always had been. She would come for him. He wanted it, she was sure. She _would_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Please read and review! I do not own "Crimson Peak" it isn't mine. No copyright infringement intended. This is the sequel to "Leaving Crimson Peak", which is available on my profile._

 _TapTap_

It had not taken long for Alan McMichael to realise that Thomas Sharpe didn't like to be startled. He had thought it was touch in general at first, but had quickly realised that wasn't the case. He supposed that it was fair. His sister had been a sadistic killer, after all, and their parents had seemingly been the violent kind, too. He guessed that at their house, anything sudden hadn't been a good sign.

Edith knew, she had to have figured it out very early on. She had always been like a sister to Alan, and her playfully hitting him wasn't unusual by any means. He had never seen her do that to Thomas. They had been playing at snowball fighting in the backyard during the winter, the pair clearly both liked that, but he had never seen Edith attempt to surprise her husband with it. It always started to his face, letting him know what was coming.

Alan didn't mind. Thomas Sharpe was a kind, intelligent and very giving man, and it was easy to like him. And he made Edith happy. Feeling like a protective brother towards her, he was grateful for this. No, he made sure not to surprise the english noble, and if he ever touched him, a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of simple acceptance which had grown easy for them as the new year ran on, he made sure to do so gently, same as he would if it were Edith, or his actual sister, he touched.

Carter Cushing took longer to realise how things lay, but he liked his new son-in-law, ever since he had found him patiently indulging his precious daughter's love of snow, nevermind that she was almost burying her foreign husband in it. He had been very suspicious of the meek man at first, but he was good to her, and that was all that mattered.

His son-in-law always controlled himself in public, but in the privacy of the Cushing home, he would always start and shudder if a hand landed too heavily on his shoulder, no matter how kind the gesture was, though he never said a word. Carter approved of that, too, men didn't speak of such things.

With time, Carter learnt to reserve such touches for Alan, like he had used to do, and the few times he did touch the soft-handed, somewhat withdrawn man his daughter had fallen in love with, he did so almost as gently as he would if it were Edith herself he was handling.

Thomas Sharpe might have been a bit too meek for a man, in his judgement, but he _had_ also proven that he could stand his ground, that was _not_ the issue, and there was no shame, after all, in having a past. So what if the man was almost pathologically lacking of stubbornness? Edith surely had at least enough of the thing for two!


	3. Chapter 3

_So, I am not all that sure about this chapter, I have twisted and turned it for a week now! What do you guys think?_

 _I do not own "Crimson Peak" and I write this only as a creative outlet._

 _TapTap_

Edith sat all still, pretending to be engrossed in her book, but really she was watching her husband from the corner of her eye. Thomas was sitting next to her, not reading, like he had done frequently lately, but just sitting again. She had thought they were past that.

To be honest, there were differences. He wasn't entirely still, for one, and his eyes weren't blindly staring at nothing, but closed. Perhaps she was overreacting. Maybe he was just tired. She swallowed and forced herself to find out. "Thomas?" And there it was, a movement of his head, eyes opening, a warm smile coming to his face, none of that blankness it was so hard to recover him from evident. "Yes, Edith?"

"Are you alright?" Thomas felt a light stab of guilt at his dear wife's worried expression. "Yes, dear. Just tired," he assured her honestly. "I dreamt something misty and strange, nothing I remember, but I didn't sleep well because of it". "Maybe you ought to retire for the night then," Carter Cushing suggested in his usual, almost harsh way from across the room.

A couple of months ago, Thomas would have taken that for disapproval, well, it probably _would_ have been, back then, though Thomas had never much minded the harsh things the much older man no doubt thought about him.

Now, he knew to take it for what it was; concern, mostly for Edith. He saw just what her father saw, that helped. It worried her when Thomas was not quite there, and he couldn't blame her. He knew that it had taken its toll on Edith, waiting for him while he gained his footing again, and he wished that he could reassure her. It was nothing like that - he really was just tired.

"Yes, I think I will," he agreed, standing up and giving his wife a reassuring kiss on the head. She merely looked more worried, so he took the time to whisper some sweet words into her ears, making an effort to be charming. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, perhaps because he wasn't usually so obvious, not with her. He just was himself. Thomas held back a sigh, giving up, and went to bed.

"Father!" Edith objected just as soon as Thomas had left the room. "Don't be so harsh on him!" "To be fair, Edith," Alan cut in, looking up from his and Mr Cushing's game of chess, "he wasn't all that harsh. I certainly don't think Thomas thought so. I really think he was just tired. He looked sleepy, not..." he stopped abruptly, not wanting to name the strange apathy Edith's husband had suffered from the previous winter.

It was to Alan, Thomas complained later that week. It was rapidly becoming autumn now, the leaves changing colour in a way Thomas had been sure Edith would love, but he saw no delight in her at their change. "She's scared," Alan noted, noticing the other man's unhappy sigh at that. "You were so... depressed, last winter. She's scared it will return with the cold". "It has nothing to do with that," Thomas challenged, shaking his head. "I am sorry it took me so long to be able to focus on Edith, I promise that I did try. I couldn't..." "I know," was all Alan knew to say.

"How do I reassure her that I am not going back to that?" the noble asked a few minutes later, taking the doctor back from his thoughts. "I honestly don't know. Talk to her, maybe? Just, don't sit silent and stare at things, that scares her". Thomas gave a slight, unamused laugh, "said that way, I don't wonder at it. It sounds terrible!"

Edith stopped at the door, hearing Thomas and Alan laugh together. Thus, she caught their next words as well, and they filled her with warmth. "I just don't want her to worry," Thomas was saying, after they finished chuckling. "I gave her enough of that last year. I really am fine - I just wish Edith could trust that". "Give her time," Alan advised, "and suggest to play in the snow again, once it comes. I don't know how you can stand that," he added after a moment.

"Oh, it is far colder up at Crimson Peak," Thomas replied, making Edith go cold instead. Crimson Peak, the name her mother had come back twice to warn her off? What had that to do with Thomas? Alan, apparently, wondered that too. "Crimson Peak?" "Mmm," Thomas replied gamely, "the ground around Allerdale Hall consists heavily of the scarlet clay that we mine. It stains the snow bright red, so the men calls it that, I hear".

Edith's head spun, and she returned to her bedroom. Crimson Peak. Beware of Crimson... oh, but of course! Had she gone there, Lucille would have killed her, just like she had at least four women before her, including her dear Thomas' three previous wives. She would like to believe that he would had saved her, and she'd never stop believing that he would have tried, but could he have broken his sister's hold on him enough in time to do so? An apt warning, indeed. She had never been more grateful for her father's suspiciousness, and she had yet been quite grateful for that in the months past.

"Edith?" Thomas stepped into their bedchamber, finding Edith sitting on the bed. As soon as he entered, she almost threw herself at him, the kiss nearly violent. Thomas allowed it, though he did not strictly like it; suddenly, she reminded him of Lucille, so demanding, almost violent. She wasn't, though, she was Edith, and after the first brief moments, she became gentle, though insistant. He willingly gave her everything she asked for, not even questioning why she was in so strange a mood. Because she was Edith; and he trusted her. She would tell him, herself, if he needed to know.


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own "Crimson Peak" and do not claim to, either._

 _TapTap_

Thomas' hands were bound with hard steel shackles which were just a little bit too tight, and secured very deeply into the stone wall behind him, forcing him too hold his hands up over his head in a way which gave him cramp.

To the wall opposite him, Lucille was secured the same way, at least two or three of her fingers looking broken, perhaps their caretakers had done so on purpose. She had warned him what asylums were like, and he still hadn't listened.

He watched the pain on her face, which was blodied, her hair matted with dirt. Why hadn't he done as he was told? He thought desperatedly, as someone, a shadow, approached him from the side, and he knew it was going to hurt.

Thomas awoke with a gasp from the nightmare, struggling to regain his breath. He hadn't had nightmares in months, and even then not that many. There was the vague thing which had left him so tired some weeks earlier, but nothing like this. With a sigh, Thomas resigned himself to absolutely not sleeping any more that night, and got up.

Edith woke up in the fairly early morning, far before she was normally up, but the bed was still empty next to her, and not only that, but it was cold. Where was Thomas?

Carter Cushing noted with some surprise as he got up and was heading out to go to the club in the morning, that his son-in-law was already up and sitting in the living room. It was not altogether unheard off that the englishman was up when he left in the mornings, and as far as he understood the younger man was always up before his daughter, but he was not often up and ready for the day so early. "Something the matter?" He asked somewhat gruffly, only to recieve a charming smile and a reply that everything was fine. He didn't believe him, and he didn't like it.


	5. Chapter 5

_For those of you very confused by last chapter - the first part of it was Thomas having a nightmare. I do not own "Crimson Peak" and do not make any money on this fanfiction._

 _TapTap_

Edith walked out into the living room, still wrapped in her morning gown, to find her husband sitting on the couch, staring into thin air. Her heart in her throat, she just stood there, as if she'd been frozen, too.

However, within moments, obviously having heard her there, he turned around, smiling at her, his eyes warm and welcoming. "Edith," he said warmly, rising to come meet her, "what are you doing up already?" "You weren't in bed," she replied, a bit confused. Thomas seemed alright, now, all of a sudden, though he had literally mere moments ago looked just like he did last year, when he was so lost.

"I couldn't sleep," there was a shadow in Thomas' eyes, but he was clearly fully present. "I had a... a dream. It sounds silly, but I..." Edith sighed in relief, then felt herself grow worried, coming close to lean against him. "Like the dream you had before? Have you had many of them?" "No, to both questions," he replied with one of his signature, charming smiles, the shadow of the nightmare beginning to pass. "I have had one or two, but not in several months now". "Oh," Edith let him lead her back to bed, taking a moment before asking, because she had to know. "What was it about?"

He hesitated, but then he replied. "The asylum... Lucille. I was there with her, and... well, let's just say it wasn't a very good experience". "I am sorry," Edith let him tuck her back into bed, pleasantly surprised as he removed his vest and joined her, letting her rest her head on his chest. "Maybe it is just nerves," Edith suggested, "you don't have to come for the re-trial if you don't want to. You are not being accused of anything".

"I know... but I... I feel like I am abandoning her.. again" Thomas admitted, looking in another direction. He didn't mind speaking about this with Edith, but he hated that things had come to this. It had been a year since the trial now, and there was to be a re-trial, judging her punishment. This time, he was listed amongst her victims. He had never truly been accused in the main trial, last time, but there was still some question to it then. And he _had_ been declared legally incompetent by the end of it.

Alan followed a slightly testy Mr Cushing home after they were both done at the office. Something seemed to worry him, and he wondered for a moment if Thomas and Edith had something troubling them.

These ponderings were quickly soothed though, as soon as they stepped in the door. Edith was reading on the couch, Thomas sitting next to her, half asleep, his one hand in her hair. Eveything was well there, then. Alan turned and only just caught the smile on Carter Cushing's face. Different as the three men were, they all shared a wish that Edith was happy.

Carter worried about what he'd find upon coming home all day, but when he did, stepping in the door with Alan, he found Edith happily curled around her husband, and he finally understood what the man had really been telling him that morning. Nothing wrong, no, maybe that was not true, but _nothing to bother Edith_. And wasn't that really the same thing in all ways that mattered?


	6. Chapter 6

_So, how do you like it so far? I am not sure I am capturing quite the same feel as in the first part... No copyright infringement is intended._

 _TapTap_

Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath after sitting down in court with Edith. He wouldn't be testifying this time, and perhaps he shouldn't have come, but he felt he needed to. He then met his wife's concerned eyes and tried to smile reassuringly, but it was likely that she wasn't convinced by it.

Lucille Sharpe's laywer started out by claiming Lucille's behaviour in the Asylum came from memories of a childhood trauma when an especially violent row with their mother had ended with her hurting both children badly.

It hadn't helped Lucille's case at all though, as it had taken two doctors and four guards to hold her down in order to examine the alledged scars. The judge then questioned if her brother had these injuries, as well, apparently to the head. At this sudden inquiry, doctor Alan McMichael, seated next to him and his wife Edith, gently placed two fingers on the man's jaw, turning his head so he could feel for the old wound.

Though Thomas Sharpe clearly appreciated the examination even less than his sister, he held still, and that was all it took, once more proving that while some would say that both siblings had been injured, and had then caused it in turn, only one of them was insane or, indeed, vicious.


	7. Chapter 7

_So, this is a little scene where Edith comforts Thomas... enjoy! I do not claim any ownership of "Crimson Peak", as I do not have any._

 _TapTap_

Edith didn't want to open her eyes. Thomas had been quiet after the trial yesterday, hardly saying more than a few words all through the evening, but he hadn't been staring, instead sitting next to her, touching her arm or her hair just with his fingertips. But she was afraid it had been only to reassure her, and not because he wanted to.

"Edith?" A warm, careful hand suddenly touched her arm. "Wake up, my dear," Thomas murmured in a reassuring tone of voice, "wake up, my dear, you are having a nightmare". Edith opened her eyes, only to be greeted with the sight of her husband, sitting on the edge of the bed, his entire being showing concern.

"I am fine," she promised him, sitting up. "How long have you been awake for?" "Most of the night," the englishman admitted somewhat sheepishly, but even then, his smile was charming. "I couldn't sleep". At her worried look, he smiled, "I am alright. But you are right, I won't be coming, next time, if there is a next time. Alan has promised to accompany you, should it come to that".

Edith sighed in relief, and leaned into Thomas' side. "That's a good decision. Has my father left for the club?" "No, actually, he went directly to work. He left about an hour ago, actually". Glancing at a clock, before closing her eyes again and leaning into Thomas, Edith noted, "that's late for him". "I think he wanted to make sure it was safe to leave you with me," but there was a clear smile in Thomas' voice, and it was apparant that he did not take offence. He never seemed to, when it came to her father's odd quirks about her.

Edith just sighed, but she then felt her beloved Thomas' lips in her hair, quickly followed by a whisper, close to her ear. "It is alright, Edith. He is only protecting you. I would do the same," there was that audible smile again, "though perhaps not so effectively... I would certainly try". There was suddenly sadness there, and she opened her eyes, placing her palm on his cheek and gently turning his head. He obliged, but his eyes were troubled.

"I know you would have tried your best," she looked into his eyes as she said it; watched as he listened, and then closed his eyes, tears falling in that motion. She had never seen Thomas weep before, but a part of her was relieved that he finally gave in to it, even as she held him while he cried.


	8. Chapter 8

_In this chapter, we get to see the couple, and especially Thomas, from the eyes of some businessmen Carter Cushing works with. I do not claim to own "Crimson Peak" as I do not, in fact, own "Crimson Peak"._

 _TapTap_

Carter Cushing was a highly respected builder who had started out the hard way, building his fortune, and his business, all from scratch. He also was a protective father, and a very firm man who did not care a wit what the witless thought.

The man's only family was his daughter; whom he had always been very protective of, especially after he had lost his wife, her mother, to a fever, many years ago now. She had married last year, or so the gossips eagerly informed everybody patient enough to hear them, to an english aristocrat with a completely mad, murderous sister.

Quite a few of Carter Cushing's business associates had privately thought it very convenient for the man to now have a son-in-law living in his house, and more than one of the more protective ones had wished to get to have their married daughters as close (though not as many as those who just as privately thought it'd drive them mad, mostly because of their wives). Some were merely relieved never to have to deal with an irrate Carter Cushing, as the man was quite crafty and harsh enough even without the added worry of a married daughter moving away.

She had always been a bit of an odd one, Edith Cushing, their gossip-indulging wives told them, writing tales since a young age, not even romances, but mostly ghost stories. Maybe her husband could understand her better, it was reasoned, being a foreigner and all.

Thus when some of his closer associates were invited to his home to look at plans for a new large build, their wives were actually disappointed not to be invited for the working dinner, instead of relieved. Practically all of the husbands found this supremely strange, but not as strange as the displeasure shown by their daughters. Apparently this englishman was quite the attractive man, not that they themselves could understand what that had to do with anything.

The meeting started in the Cushing office, looking over plans and standing by drawingboards, discussing and going over every detail, before they all walked together to the Cushing family home to settle with the paperwork and what was sure to be an excellent dinner.

As they entered the house, the building being beautiful enough in every way to belong to a builder, their coats were taken, and Cushing then led the way through a hallway. Sitting in a room to the left, into which two large, open doors were leading, was a very pretty young woman with light hair, clearly the daughter they had heard so much about through the years. Many of them had met her, at one point or another.

She was writing something with a beautiful pen, looking very focused, clearly unaware of their presence. Sitting across from her was a man, a few years older than she was, also writing. His hair was very dark, and as he looked up, having heard them coming, they could see that indeed, the gossips were right; the man had a face which could draw any woman's eye. Some of them, of course, had seen him before in society, but mostly in passing.

"Ah, gentlemen," he said, his voice fairly low, as he put his pen down and took up whatever he had been writing on, coming to join them, silently closing the doors behind himself, with a small smile in Mr Cushing's direction. "No need to disturb Edith. She has been having trouble with her hero all day," the man smiled, and he truly looked charming doing so, "the damned man isn't doing what she wants him to".

"Stubborn to the bone," Mr Cushing said fondly, "I do not much understand the writing of fiction, but surely she decides such things". "Apparently characters evolve and sort of have a will of their own," Thomas explained, walking with Carter as they continued towards the dining room. "I suppose it is only natural any creation of Edith's have some stubbornness".

"Indeed," Carter Cushing agreed, only now turning towards his business aquaintances saying, "gentlemen - this is Sir Thomas Sharpe, my son-in-law". "Gentlemen," Thomas greeted charmingly in their direction, another of his wide smiles making him look very amiable. Clearly he was a man it was very easy to like. He must be, someone noted to himself, if a man like Cushing approved of the man, even tolerated having him live in his home.

As they started to spread the papers on the dining room table, Thomas Sharpe lay the scroll he had been working on there too, clearly taking some part in these plans. As he unrolled the large papers and, at Carter's invitation to do so, started to explain the added design details he had suggested, they realised that the man was also more than a little clever.

As the paperwork was eventually cleared away, all having come away with new respect for not only Cushing's business and building senses, but also the younger man's engineering skills, and dinner was served, Edith Cushing appeared at the doors, smiling to the whole company, but mostly to her father and husband, coming to sit between them at the table.

"My daughter sends you greetings," one of the men said to her, and she smiled, replying politely and thanking him, taking her husband's hand on the table. The man was as charming by the dinner table as he was sharp by the drawing board, and everyone around the table found themselves approving of the younger addition to their business party.

They then all found themselves amused, and even more amused upon seeing the clear approval of Carter Cushing; when Edith rose as the meal ended, greeted them all politely, and then stretched out a hand to her husband in a clear command to follow. They smiled amongst themselves as he obediently bid them goodnight and indeed followed, taking her hand as they left the room. Stubborn, indeed. Her character might put up a fight, but her husband certainly didn't. But though the looks they exchanged after the couple left their presence were much amused, they were very benevolently so, and there was not one harsh thought amongst them as they returned to the matter at hand.


	9. Chapter 9

_Some of you, especially my most faithful reviewer on these two stories, have expressed a desire for Carter and Thomas to get along. This is what Carter Cushing really thinks about his new son in law, and how it grew to be that way. No copyright infringement is intended, I am just intending to show my appreciation for the story._

 _TapTap_

As the autumn was growing on, Edith did enjoy the changing colours of the leaves, and she and Thomas took many long walks together. They were sitting in a small study, with windows overlooking the garden, a peaceful afternoon before Edith's father came home from work; when the very first snow of the year arrived.

Thomas smiled at Edith's unrestrained enthusiasm, even as he allowed himself to be led out into the garden, only stopping very briefly to grab a probably not quite sufficient amount of outer garments.

Hence it was that Carter Cushing, this time alone, came home, a year past the first time, once more finding the pair playing in the snow in the garden outside of his house. Carter was many things, but he did not lie to himself, and he freely admitted internally that they had all been lucky in the way this had turned out.

Thomas Sharpe might have had a highly questionable past, and a sister Carter wanted nowhere near his family, but he had long since stopped doubting that the man truly did love his daughter, unimpressed as he had been by that argument at first. And for all that the sister had clearly been lethal, her brother was harmless.

As Carter stepped inside, putting his coat and briefcase away, he thought about the developments of the last year. After he had accepted the proposal laid out by Fergusen's wife, he had mostly seen to practical details for weeks; and then he had started to worry about the temper of his newly acquired son-in-law.

As Thomas had started to improve, because he understood now that it had been a kind of sickness, brought about by whatever shadows were still hiding in that man's past, he had started to see him as a convenient plaything for Edith, -something more than someone- to keep her happy and make her smile in that special way which only her new husband seemed capable to bring about.

However, as he had started to get to know the man, he had come to appreciate him for more than that. Not only was he charming, because any crook could be, but there was true kindness and a very genuine want to please in the man. He had spirit, too, but was somehow powerless to resist when he truly cared about someone.

Here, it meant that he never argued with Edith, happily giving her whatever she wanted from him, whether it was company on long walks or a willing reader of her latest novel (and Carter could hardly say how much he approved), but back in England, he suspected his sister had used this little detail in her brother's temper for far more sinister purposes.

He had come to like the man, through the months, truth be told. It had started that very first time he came home, as he watched from this very spot - that time with Alan at his side - as the aristocrat patiently indulged Edith in her games with the snow, and it had grown a firm fact during the winter, spring and past summer, until he found he quite enjoyed the man's presence in the house; and not only because it came with the assurance that Edith would not marry and move far away.

The baronet was a brilliant engineer, that was an advantage also, as well as his apparant understanding of Edith's works, and Carter had good hope for a few grandchildren eventually that might be willing to take the Cushing family business into the next century. Surely with his interest, Edith's intelligence and Thomas' eye for machines, at least one of the couple's children would want to do that?


	10. Chapter 10

_No copyright infringement is intended, only enjoyment!_

 _TapTap_

Edith and Thomas came in laughing, completely soaked from a combination of snow, mutual enthusiasm, and far too thin coats for the occasion. After drying off, they came into the living room to see that Edith's father had arrived back home, and was sitting there with a book, something that was fairly unusual but far from unheard of, hot tea awaiting them both.

Tea had not been a very usual (or even known) beverage in the Cushing household previously, but when Thomas had been starting to feel homesick it had been the perfect cure, and as Edith had started to grow fond of it as well, one was now always sure to find it in the house. Thomas had not appeared to be homesick since, and Edith was happy for that.

As they sat down, Thomas pouring the tea for them both (a frankly adorable habit, if you asked Edith), she watched the two men closest to her heart, satisfied now with what she saw. Thomas respected her father very much, she knew that, and she suspected he was grateful for his suspicion, for protecting her from his sister. Maybe, he even liked him a little? She hoped so. She was certain that her father had grown to like Thomas, and she could definitely see him smile slightly now, though he no doubt thought that she couldn't.

As Thomas handed her a teacup, putting the teapot back onto the tray and settling down with his own cup, leaning against the backrest of the sofa, she leaned against his side, letting out a small sigh of contentment that definitely made both men smile. Thomas wasn't even trying to hide it. They could be so predictable sometimes... but she liked it.

Noticing Edith smiling next to him, Thomas found himself smiling in responce before he could even think about it. There was something almost secret about that kind, loving, happy smile on her face, that made him wonder what she was thinking of. Maybe she was just amused at the way Carter Cushing was smiling, as if he was attempting to look stern but just not had it in him.

There was a time when he would have fallen for it, or even more likely would never have been in the man's sight when he looked like that, but he was not intimidated by him any longer. They both loved Edith and wanted only the best for her, and her father had proven by far the more capable in seeing to that, so Thomas was only grateful that he was around. Not that Edith wasn't perfectly capable all on her own, for the most part.

As he sipped his tea, he ran his fingers slowly up and down Edith's side, enjoying the way she sort of curled into him, having no need for something to happen all the time, as Lucille always had felt was necessary, instead capable of just enjoying being close sometimes. He was grateful for that.

Having drained his first cup, Thomas carefully - as not to disturb Edith - reached out to refill it. He had truly missed tea during his first few months here, well, after the very first while, when even tea would have brought back unpleasant memories. He had never told Edith that his sister had used tea in order to poison his first three wives, as she undoubtedly would wonder at why he had the habit of bringing her tea so often, if she knew that.

The very simple truth, of course, was that he was english. Tea was the ultimate expression of just about anything, in his world, and bringing Edith tea was just another way of telling her he loved her. _That_ part, she probably understood. He had a nagging suspicion she would _not_ understand it any longer if she had known, and he didn't want her to think that he was thinking of poisoning her... he startled a little at that mere thought, even as it couldn't be further from the truth, making Edith look up at him wonderingly, and he had to smile. His sister had been right about one thing: he could be truly ridiculous at times.

Edith looked up at Thomas, as he smiled to himself, as if to some private joke, probably to do with tea. He was absurdly fond of tea, but Alan had informed her that everyone english was. He had not seemed to miss it during the first few months of their marriage, but maybe that was just due to bad memories; she remembered from the trial that his sister had poisoned tea in the past.

Edith smiled back and rested her head against Thomas' chest, after first putting her empty teacup on the table. Maybe Lucille Sharpe simply _hadn't_ liked tea at all, and that was why it had been her preferred metod? Edith was quite happy with never knowing, because Lucille was defeated, and Thomas now belonged only with her. And that was a very good thought.


	11. Epilogue - 21 years later

_And here, the story comes to a close. I hope you have enjoyed it. I still do not claim to own "Crimson Peak" and I sincerely hope me playing with it cases nobody any offence. None is intended._

 _TapTap_

Thomas Cushing, seventeen, ran up the steps to the main building of the Cushing construction empire. His elder brother, Sir Carter Sharpe, was probably already in. His brother was almost twenty, and had taken over the company two years earlier, when their grandfather, Carter Cushing, had finally decided he was growing too old. Or, well, when he finally gave in to the sheer stubbornness of their mother, when she demanded he'd retire. The man was over eighty years old now, but he still came in to the office every afternoon to check on them.

It wasn't like they were alone, either. Carter Jr's twin sister, Alice, had been handling the books since she was sixteen, and their mother - though an acclaimed writer, which kept her very busy - had been keeping an eye on that side of things for over a decade.

Their father had never gotten involved in those sides of the business, ever, not once, but he was an excellent engineer, as was their younger sister, and he was always there to make sure that part of the company blossomed.

Thomas Jr dropped into his seat at the conference table at the last minute, dropping his ongoing manuscript next to him, and looked around at the rest of the participants in the meeting.

His brother smirked some but didn't comment on his arrival. Quite the business genius, Edith Cushing and Sir Thomas Sharpe's eldest had quickly mollified any worries his grandfather might have had for the future of his company when the boy at an age of six he had started to come up with business ideas and at the ripe old age of eleven had requested to get to join him in going over the books.

Thomas himself had followed more in their mother's footsteps, but nobody had minded. Alice had proven to simply take on the stubborn family traits for herself (and, Thomas privately thought, perhaps a few of the mad ones, as well) and had travelled over to Cumberland in England last year to go over Allerdale Hall.

They still broke clay there with their father's machine, but no-one had been inside the house in well over fifteen years, not that that had deterred her. She spoke of moving there. Well, not into the house itself, as it had sunken far into the ground and was uninhabitable, but to England.

Their other sister, sixteen years old now, and named after their grandmother; who had died in black cholera so long ago, when their own mother was merely ten, was almost always pooring over calculations, intent on building the highest bridge ever constructed one day. He didn't doubt either of his sisters would succeed, no matter what projects they finally took on.

He did not fear for even the youngest of his four siblings, who had less of their mother's stubbornness (something the rest of them all had plenty off) and more of their father's calm ease. Her name was Lucille, and their mother used to joke that it had taken their father and grandfather fifteen years to somewhat agree on it as a name. They still hadn't, as far as Thomas Jr was concerned.

Thomas had never met his aunt Lucille. Alice had gone to see her twice when she was seventeen, noted that the woman was insane, and had then dropped it. They all trusted her judgement, and no one went again. She had died last year, leaving their father silent and brooding for almost three weeks, but uncle Alan had reassured them, saying that it was their father's way of coping with things which he found painful, and that he would go back to normal again if they only let him work through it. He had been right.

Thomas Jr knew that his father never had been able to make things right with his sister, and only had seen her once after the second court date, having let their mother persuade him to stay at home for the third one, instead bringing uncle Alan. There had never been a fourth. She had been locked in an asylum, practically with the key tossed away, and Sir Thomas Sharpe was still declared legally incompentent, almost twenty-five years after the original judgement. Thomas knew that, because when his brother turned twenty-one, he would inherit the title of baronet, and ownership of Allerdale Hall.

Thomas Jr looked up from his thoughts as his mother and father entered, arm in arm and smiling, joining him and his two older siblings. His younger sister entered in their trail, laying a big stack of paper down on the table next to her, immediately catching their father's attention, just like their mother took a quick peek at his manuscript, in the short time they had before the meeting began.

They were a large family, with an even bigger range of interests, but as their grandfather entered, supported on a cane these days (as well as immediately helped by two of his grandchildren, and his son-in-law, the moment they all noticed him) he decided that what did that matter, as long as they had each others's support? The Cushing family - as well as its Sharpe componants, as his sister would say - all loved each other, and it was as that woman his mother spoke of sometimes, had said. "Your story turned out alright in the end then, dear".


End file.
